


Optics to Yourself

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Untouched, Groping, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 23:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: "can i get perceptor absolutely destroying brainstorm without touching him? like, maybe choice kink or something alike?"and"Perceptor and Brainstorm in the lab; Percy is getting increasingly suggestive with flirting and touching, but teasing brainstorm every time he reacts. Brainstorm is trying desperately to keep calm because as badly as he wants to open his panels and beg for it, that would be -losing-"Requests from Tumblr





	Optics to Yourself

They were together! Brainstorm didn’t see why Perceptor kept doing things like this to him. To flaunt his _ incredibly attractive _ frame? He doesn’t have to, Brainstorm already knows how hot his conjunx is! To make Brainstorm want him more? Impossible!

Yet, Perceptor did like to drop things on the floor on “accident” just so he could bend over to pick them up. And he did have a special way he leaned on his desk, curving his spinal strut and letting his aft catch Brainstorm’s optic. It’s like he was _ trying _ to distract him.

“Brainstorm?” Perceptor’s stern voice cut through the jet’s musing, “Shouldn’t you be getting your work done? This experiment has a certain timeframe, ‘Storm.” He tapped the datapad in his servo for emphasis. Brainstorm groaned and suppressed the urge to stomp his pedes like a sparkling. His wings fluttered behind him as he tried to rein in his processor so he could get back to work.

Then he heard the subtle shifting of Perceptor’s mechanisms, and he spun around in his chair to see Perceptor languidly stretching his servos over his helm, pushing out his chest just so, and making _ direct optic contact _ with Brainstorm. The jet swore that his engine stalled for a moment.

“_ Brainstorm _ ,” Perceptor’s arms dropped back to his sides, “Get back to work,” He snarled, “I’ll cuff you to your desk next time I catch you _ gawking_.” Brainstorm certainly felt the false weight in the tone, but he did catch the almost hidden laugh that followed the other scientist’s words.

The jet was absolutely enamored by the other’s frame. He couldn’t deny it, it made his spark race and charge rise, and he knew that he should get back to work, but he found it impossible to drag his optics away from Perceptor.

“What, don’t tell me you actually want me to tie you to your desk?” His sneer wasn’t missed by the jet. Brainstorm barely restrained himself from telling Perceptor “_ Yes” _, because that would be proving him right in that the jet couldn’t get any work done with his alluring conjunx nearby. If only to prove his willpower, Brainstorm decided that he wasn’t going to give in. 

His digits shook, his servos were unsteady, he was perpetually hitting the wrong key on his datapad’s keyboard. It was an overall _ miserable _ experience. He could feel the heat in his face plate from his venting, he knew that his wings were involuntarily twitching, ailerons raising to try to get rid of some of that burning warmth. Torturous though it was, Brainstorm could tell that Perceptor had no plan of letting up on him.

Brainstorm’s thighs squeezed together in a desperate attempt to keep his panels shut and stop the lubricant behind them from leaking out. He wanted to continue his work, but the next thing he had to do was handle the _ incredibly breakable _ experimental material that they were testing. 

“P-Percy? Can you do the practical bit and- and I’ll just write?” Brainstorm asked, testing to see if Perceptor would allow him to weasel his way out of doing that particular bit of work.

“But the practical aspect is usually your favorite part,” Perceptor left his seat and desk to approach Brainstorm’s. There was _ no way _ he wasn’t able to smell the jet’s lubricant while he leaned over his shoulder to grab the metal and glass vials of liquid solutions that they were testing. “If you really insist, I can do this for you.” 

Perceptor took the piece of metal from Brainstorm’s worktable, along with the acids and solutions to test the effects of. He sat down and got to the testing, and, much to Brainstorm’s relief, he also seemed to stop teasing him.

Naturally, peace didn’t last long for the jet. It wasn’t much time before Perceptor was back to the stretching and the sighing and the _ unprofessionally _ standing up and bending over his desk to work.

“_ Perceptor, _” Brainstorm whined.

“What? Don’t tell me you can’t do your work. You’re the one who wanted to trade off.”

“You know what you’re doing, _ please _.” He didn’t really know where he was going with this. 

“Yes, I know what I’m doing. I know how you like it, too.” Before Brainstorm could get another word in, Perceptor had sauntered over to his desk. “I know that you can’t focus, and that you’re absolutely _ dripping _ behind your panels.” He sat on Brainstorm’s lap, facing him and straddling his thighs. “And I know that what you _ really _ want is for me to frag you hard over your desk.”

“Please,” Brainstorm’s voice was no more than a panting whisper as Perceptor’s servos began to roam his body. The jet’s own servos gripped at the seat of his chair, yearning to reach out and grab and feel Perceptor, but not wanting to risk any of this stopping. Though, he couldn’t stop his optics from absolutely _ ravaging _ Perceptor’s frame.

And from Perceptor’s view, he had the most reactive, willing mech right there in front of him. The little rise and fall of his shoulders with his vents, the twitching of his wings against the chair, his wide optics that scoured for even the slightest movement. Brainstorm was just fascinating to play with.

“Open your panels for me,” Perceptor said, hopping off of Brainstorm’s lap, “And stand up.”

Brainstorm was more than happy to comply, his panels popping to expose his leaking spike and puffy, slick valve. He went to follow Perceptor’s other instruction, but found his legs shaking then buckling under him as he stood. He felt himself fall, but not hit the ground, and when he onlined his optics, he found himself in Perceptor’s arms.

Though he didn’t stay in the mech’s hold for long. His processor spun as he was roughly turned, then shoved down onto his desk, datapads being swept aside. Even more embarrassing than the almost-fall Brainstorm had was the moan he couldn’t keep back at being pushed to lean over his desk.

A sudden heat was pressed against Brainstorm’s valve, sliding easy across the mesh pleats. 

“P-Percy! Is that your spike?” He tried to turn and look behind him, only to be held down By Perceptor’s strong grip. Brainstorm waited for that thick heat to push into him, but it didn’t. “Come on, stop teasing me, Percy!”

“If I frag you now, you’ll overload in two seconds.” Perceptor’s hold moved from Brainstorm’s back to his helm, keeping it pressed down where he could only look forwards.

“I won’t, I promise!”

“You can’t promise that,” Perceptor chuckled. “In fact, I think that I could _ make _ you overload without even touching your valve.”

“Percy, no,” Brainstorm whined, squirming against Perceptor’s grip, “I want- frag, just spike me, already!”

“_ You _ don’t get to make the calls here,” His digits pinched Brainstorm’s wing tip, then gave it a few tugs, forcing out gasps from the jet. “If I want to overload you without spiking you, then I will. If I want you to make a mess of your desk, you will. Do you understand?”

Brainstorm shivered and panted out hot air. His ailerons raised, giving Perceptor full access to the delicate plating and wiring underneath them.

“Good.” Perceptor hummed, immediately jamming his digits roughly underneath Brainstorm’s aileron. The jet responded with a squeal, and he writhed, legs soon going limp and putting all of his weight on his front and the desk. “How does this feel? How does this make you feel?”

“I-it- ngh! It feels weird,” Brainstorm muttered. He’s never overloaded without having his array touched before, and the charge racing under his plating and through his circuits wasn’t like anything he’d felt before.

“And how does all of this make you feel?” Perceptor punctuated his growling sentence with a rough grab on the jet’s delicate wing. “To have me doing this to you?”

“I- frag,” Brainstorm’s processor was spinning. He really didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to word it in any way that would be eloquent or even make sense, “Like- I… it makes me feel like I’m _ yours _ , when you h- _ handle _ me like this.”

“Good,” Perceptor growled, his aggressive grabbing and stroking not ceasing, “Because you _ are _ mine. What do you think about that?”

“I love it,” Brainstorm panted, “I love being yours- _ frag _, Percy!” He moaned out lewdly when he felt those digits take hold of one of the more sensitive parts of his wing. “Percy- like that, please, more,” His neglected valve throbbed, clenching down on nothing. He knew that he would be able to overload if Perceptor just so much as brushed against his array.

His digits scrambled for purchase on the smooth top of his desk, eventually settling to hook on the edge of it. His charge was making him jittery, anxious, it made his spark and processor spin. He just wanted nothing more than to have Perceptor frag him through his overload. Take him rough and hard on top of his work desk, in the lab where anybody could walk in and see them.

Then it hit him, _ hard _ . He shuddered and thrashed in Perceptor’s grip as his overload slammed into him. His vocalizer shrieked static and moans and his valve _ poured _ lubricant onto the floor beneath him. 

When he came down it was to stars and spots in his vision and the weight of Perceptor gone from his back. Instead, he found his conjunx leaning over next to him, optics soft with care as he waited for Brainstorm to get his senses back.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, taking the jet’s hand.

“Mm- yeah, I think so,” Brainstorm angled and twitched his wings, making sure that none of the components are damaged.

“Do you still want my spike in your valve?”

“W- heh, well, I wouldn’t mind it,” Brainstorm tested his legs, only to find that they were still shaky.

“Good, because I’m not done with you, yet.”


End file.
